After The Storm
by BlueSky1985
Summary: Harry reflects on what has been lost after the Battle of Hogwarts and still what is to gain. Post DH, so warning for some spoilers. This will largely be an HPGW fic.
1. A New Adventure

Summary: The next great adventure … is life.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, settings, or anything else mentioned in this work of fiction. Everything within the Harry Potter universe belong solely to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. Productions. No copyright infringement is intended.

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Harry stood silently beside Dumbledore's tomb. The white marble that had recently been two large halves, now stood proudly before him, with no evidence that it had ever been disturbed. Professor McGonagall had repaired it beautifully once Harry had returned the Elder Wand to its rightful owner. Interring the Wand had been something Harry had wanted to do with Ron and Hermione as the last act of their year-long journey together, but McGonagall had been adamant that the three of them see Madam Pomfrey immediately and return to Gryffindor tower to get some much needed rest. Harry had been the loudest to protest, and McGonagall had only agreed to let him go on the condition that she go with him and that he go straight to the hospital wing when they were finished. 

But now he stood alone with the early morning sun warming his back. Professor McGonagall had returned to the castle not long ago, giving Harry as much time as he needed, and Harry was grateful for it. He hadn't been able to properly pay his respects to Dumbledore at the funeral. But now, Harry felt awkward standing there. There had never been time for him to take for himself until now. There had always been some evil to fight, some life to save before time ran out, and now time had unfolded itself in front of him with no end in sight.

And now that Harry had all the time in the world, it seemed, he had no idea what to do with it. He looked at the white marble tomb and remembered what Dumbledore had always said about death being the next great adventure, and Harry had been prepared for it, had even welcomed it, as he had walked into the forest to face Voldemort and his own death, because that was just how it had to be. But Dumbledore had never mentioned just how much of an adventure life could be and Harry had never thought of it. Until now. And the possibilities and opportunities that were now laid before him excited, overwhelmed, and terrified him all at once. And Dumbledore wasn't there to help him sort it all out, and that scared him even more. And then, from somewhere in the back of his memory, he remembered Dumbledore reminding him that the ones he loved would never really be gone, as long as Harry carried their memories on.

Harry stepped forward and placed his hand flat against the cool surface of the tomb and closed his eyes. It still scared him to not have Dumbledore there beside him, but he also realized that he'd been clinging to the childish belief that Dumbledore would never leave, because even in the times when he had disappeared to somewhere else, he had always come back, and Harry hadn't been prepared for his loss, or the way it had happened, but in Snape's memories he had come to understand why it had happened the way it had, and now understood that while the man had left, the memory had not, and Dumbledore's presence would always be felt throughout the halls and corridors of Hogwarts.

It was a testament, Harry knew, of just how much he had grown up in the last year. Somewhere along the way, the little boy who had once been so impressionable and naïve had grown into a man who had come face to face with evil and had persevered to defeat the worst of it, and still knew that there would be others like Tom Riddle, fascinated with the power they held over people and the way the Dark Arts allowed them to keep that control. And Dumbledore had given the boy the knowledge and tools that only the man would truly be able to use on his journey.

"Thank you," Harry whispered, and there was a sense of finality in what he said, as it encompassed everything Dumbledore had done, to keep him protected and still allow him to fight what needed to be fought. He opened his eyes as his hand fell back to his side. The sun shone brightly upon the tomb as Harry was finally filled with the closure he needed to take the next step forward on his next great adventure. And that adventure, he knew, would only be taken with one person.

Harry turned from Dumbledore's tomb and started back up the sloping grounds to the castle. He was tempted to wander around and take in all the grounds had to offer, but decided it could wait. He had time now, time he hadn't had before, and maybe Ginny could be persuaded to join him after he had properly rested.

He made sure to stop by the hospital wing, where Madam Pomfrey fussed over him and treated his various cuts and bruises, but she didn't try to hold him in the wing. She released him back to Gryffindor tower and he wandered through the castle, surveying the damage from the battle, and soon found himself standing in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady. He mumbled the password that Professor McGonagall had given him out on the grounds and climbed through the portrait hole into the common room.

He hadn't known what he had really expected to find – a deserted common room? – but being knocked backwards by someone hadn't been it. Ginny's arms were around him and her lips were on his, and despite the fierceness of her kiss, Harry managed to find his footing without tumbling backwards out of the portrait hole, and wrapped his arms fully around her. She was his and he was hers, and his hand slid into her long fiery hair as she balled his shirt in her fingers, and Harry's mind flashed on those endless nights with the Marauder's Map, and at Shell Cottage, knowing that Ginny was at her Aunt Muriel's, and that she was closer than she had been, yet still so far away, but she was safe, and that is what had truly mattered. And Harry knew that his decision to separate until the war was over had been right, even though it hadn't been easy. He had Ginny now, and that was all he would ever need.

Ginny parted from him breathlessly and Harry saw in her eyes a blazing fire of anger and hurt and relief and sadness, and while he knew the reasons for the sadness and relief, he couldn't quite put his finger on the anger or the hurt. What had he done that would cause her to be angry with him?

"Ginny …" he started cautiously, and tried to lean back as Ginny's fists began pounding at his arms.

"If Ron hadn't taken my wand, I would hex you!" she shouted as the sides of her fists began making contact with his chest. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but managed nothing more than a couple of "Ow!"s before Ginny carried on. "What do you think you were playing at, Harry? Pretending to be dead like that!"

"Ginny … ow!" Harry yelled as he tried to catch Ginny's swinging hands, not only to put a stop to the relentless abuse from her fists, but also to give himself time to explain.

"It was incredibly selfish of you! First I'd lost Fred, and then you … and … and …" Ginny paused and took a breath as the assault of her fists on his chest slowed and finally ceased, and Harry took advantage of the fact and pulled her back into his arms where he held her tightly against him.

"I had to, Ginny. It was the only way." he said quietly into her hair. "I didn't want to, but I had to."

He felt Ginny relax against him and knew that her resolve to be angry with him was quickly crumbling. "I saw you. On the grounds, when I was going into the forest. I wanted you to know I was there, and where I was going, and what I had to do, and there was so much I wanted to tell you, Ginny, but I couldn't. I wouldn't have been able to go into the forest. I wouldn't have been able to do what I needed to do."

Ginny lifted her head away from Harry's shoulder and looked up at him, her deep brown eyes moist with unshed tears. Harry's eyes locked onto hers and for a moment neither spoke as they took each other in, and Harry was quite certain that she had never looked more beautiful than she did at that moment with her hair out of place and small cuts and scrapes in various places on her forehead, cheeks, and jaw.

"You don't know how scared I was, when I lost Fred, and thought I had lost you." Ginny whispered, swiping roughly at a lone tear that defied her internal protests and fell onto her cheek.

Harry's arms tightened around her again as she let her head fall back against his chest, her body trembling against his with quiet sobs. Ginny had never been an overly weepy person, but even she couldn't always keep it locked inside. Harry rocked her slowly from side to side, combing his fingers slowly through her hair.

"You don't have to be scared anymore, Gin. It's all over." he said softly with his lips pressed lightly against her forehead. "It's all just a memory now."


	2. Letting Go

Summary: It's never easy letting go.

Author's Notes: I wanted to try and keep this entire story in Harry's POV, but I just wasn't sure of a way to do it for this chapter, so this will be told from Ginny's POV instead.

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Ginny swallowed hard as she stared straight ahead, focused on the casket that hovered lightly over a freshly hollowed grave, but without really seeing it. She didn't want to see it. She heard her mother's muffled sobs from beside her, but they somehow didn't register in Ginny's mind. She was numb to her surroundings, to the funeral taking place.

_This isn't funny anymore, Fred_, she thought vehemently, because surely Fred wasn't gone. Surely it wasn't his casket that hovered over the grave, and surely it wasn't his funeral. It was nothing more than Fred's idea of a sick practical joke, one that he had not even let George in on. She forced herself to keep her eyes on the casket, waiting for the moment when Fred would push back the lid and pronounce his joke to everyone and expect raucous laughter.

But nothing happened, and Ginny felt her cheeks flush in anger. Not her typical hex-now-ask-questions-later anger, but an anger that ran much deeper and tore at her insides until she was too numb to really feel the pain and sorrow that came as a result of that anger. She watched as the hovering casket carrying Fred's body was slowly lowered into the ground, and opened her mouth to protest, because how dare anyone take her brother away from her, the only brother who had ever fully understood her and her personality and her ability to think and make decisions for herself, and not only had he understood it, but he encouraged it and did his best to guide her as she did because she really was so much like him, but the words she needed caught somewhere in her throat.

There was so much she still didn't understand. Why had it been Fred? He hadn't chosen a career as a curse breaker, and he didn't spend his life working with dragons. He hadn't been attacked by a werewolf, and he certainly hadn't gone out in search of Horcruxes in order to destroy Voldemort, and he hadn't put himself in danger by working in a compromised Ministry of Magic. He had gone with everyone else to fight in the battle that night, but Fred lived for danger. The more dangerous the situation, the better. It was the risk and the challenge that he loved. And it had taken his life. And there was so much that she still didn't understand about how Harry had escaped death for a second time, but why her brother had remained lifeless. If Harry could survive, surely Fred could have survived, too?

Her throat burned as her thoughts rushed around inside her mind. She fought desperately to dismiss them because there was no way that she would ever truly be able to wrap her mind around the thought that she would never hear Fred's laughter again, or see the twinkle in his eye when he and George were obviously up to no good, which was most of the time anyway. He would never be there to turn to when she needed a talk, and she couldn't go to any of her other brothers, because they would just dismiss her as a silly little sister, and Hermione would be busy with her own matters. For the first time in her life, Ginny felt isolated. There were people all around her, and she should have felt smothered, but how could she when they were all wrapped up in their own grief and sorrow too much to worry about hers?

Ginny looked away to George. She had never seen him look so broken before, but understood why he did. He'd lost more than anyone else in that battle; he'd lost half of himself in an instant and how does someone go about shouldering the burden of making themselves whole again after something like that? She was doing her best not to think about it because she couldn't.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the dirt that had been piled just to the side of the grave was whisked from the ground and blanketed over Fred's casket until the grave was completely covered and turned from George back to where the casket had hovered only moments ago. Her mother's sobs had grown louder and now saw that her father and all of her brothers were crying too, though Ron was doing his damndest to try and hide it.

Ginny felt her resolve beginning to crumble as she inhaled a sharp breath and cringed at the pain she felt. Fred had always called her the strong one, stubborn even, and he was half right; she was as stubborn as they come, but she doubted right now that she would ever be as strong as she had once been. Fred had been her strength, and that strength had gone with him.

She closed her eyes tightly as a warm and familiar hand slid onto her shoulder and then around her, drawing her back toward them. She had forgotten that Harry had chosen to stand behind her instead of beside her, which, she thought, was where he ought to have been, but she knew that he was having just as much of a difficult time with Fred's death as she was, even if he wasn't showing it, owing to the fact that he felt largely responsible for what had happened. He felt responsible for everyone that had died that night, but Fred had hit him especially hard.

Ginny grasped the arm Harry had put around her with both hands, grateful for something to hold onto. Her legs were starting to fail her, and in all honesty, she wasn't quite sure how she'd managed to keep standing when her knees had felt weak and wobbly during the entire funeral. She leaned more closely against Harry to keep from crumbling to the ground. She turned until her back was to the grave, unable to look at it any longer, and buried her head against Harry's shoulder.

Ginny felt the burning sensation in her throat increase and swallowed hard against it. She wanted to cry, to feel something, but she just felt completely numb and there were no more tears left in her to cry. It had been only a matter of days since Fred had fallen victim to that final battle, but she had grown tired of crying. It wouldn't bring Fred back.

Nothing would.

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	3. Gone

Summary: The truth remains; you're gone.

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Ginny paced around her room with her jaw set firmly in annoyance as she tried to figure out just where exactly Harry had disappeared to. She'd looked everywhere she could possibly think to look. It wasn't as if Harry had all that many places he liked to run off to.

She had searched the Burrow inside and out since before breakfast and had found no trace of Harry anywhere. Not in the orchard where they always played Quidditch during the summer holidays, and he hadn't been in the broom shed. Though she had inadvertently walked in on Ron and Hermione locked together in a rather long and deep kiss, and … well, that was not something Ginny really wanted to be thinking about just then.

She knew that Harry could be practically anywhere in London, or in the world for that matter, and hadn't bothered to let anyone know where he had gone off to. Mrs. Weasley had noticed Harry's absence at breakfast and had Flooed Mr. Weasley at the Ministry to see if Harry had turned up, only to find out that they'd seen neither hide nor hair of him all morning and had no reason to believe he would turn up. Mrs. Weasley had flown rather irrationally into hysterics, though Ginny had to admit, her mother had been less than fully rational since Fred had died. She had kept a very close eye on each of her remaining children, and that now included Harry and Hermione.

_This is just so like him!_ Ginny thought angrily as she threw her hands up in the air. She could Apparate to Grimmauld Place and check in on him, because if Harry wasn't at The Burrow, Grimmauld Place was the most likely place to find him. The only problem with that, she soon realized, was that she was not yet old enough to Apparate on her own.

"Bugger!" She swore under her breath. "You are so cursed when I find you, Harry!"

Ginny continued to pace the floor of her room as she tried to think of the best way to find Harry. She could simply ask Ron or Hermione, chances were that they knew. They knew everything when it came to Harry. Though that would involve walking in on them snogging again and Ginny didn't really think that was something she wanted to see again anytime soon. She had fully accepted their relationship; she just didn't want to see it any more than they wanted to see Harry and her. She thought again about her options and decided she could probably get her mother to convince Kingsley to send the Aurors out searching for him, although that idea was dismissed as quickly as it had come. The Aurors were all out searching for Death Eaters that were still at large, and this was nothing more than Harry most likely deciding he needed a bit of space, not a matter of real importance.

Ginny sighed and flopped down onto her bed, watching as Gwenog Jones, captain of the Holyhead Harpies, the all-witch Quidditch team, zoomed into the poster that hung on the wall. She felt tears sting her eyes as she turned them from the poster to the ceiling. Harry had been the only reason she had been able to get out of bed and face each of the days that had followed Fred's funeral, because being with him made her believe that moving on wasn't such an impossibility, and that even though the pain of losing Fred would never fully go away, it would eventually hurt a little less to laugh or to smile or to just breathe.

And Harry had decided to vanish. Just like that.

Ginny swiped at the corners of her eyes with her hand and tilted her head up as the door burst open. Hermione stood in the doorway, out of breath and red in the face. She had either been running or she and Ron had been at it again.

"So you two do come up for air," Ginny mumbled tonelessly as she let her head fall back onto her bed. She imagined that if Hermione had heard her, her face would have turned a shade of red that would put even the Weasleys' trademark red hair to shame.

"Your mum sent me up to tell you that dinner's ready." Hermione said once she was able to catch her breath. She went to turn out of the room and stopped when she realized that Ginny hadn't moved to join her. "Ginny … are you alright?"

"I'm here, aren't I?"Ginny asked in answer.

Hermione had never heard Ginny sound so defeated, because defeated was one thing Ginny absolutely refused to be. She crossed the room and sat on the edge of Ginny's bed. She said nothing as she took in Ginny's watery eyes and her stiff jaw line. Something wasn't quite right.

Ginny finally sighed and turned her head to look at Hermione. "I just wish I knew where Harry was. He's not here, and the only other place I can think of is Grimmauld Place, but why wouldn't he have just said he was going there?"

Hermione could only shrug, which made her uncomfortable. She wasn't often at a loss for the answer to a question, but Harry had been much more difficult to read than normal lately. It was almost as if he'd succeeded in shutting them all out. "I don't know, Ginny."

"You don't know where he is do you?" Ginny asked pointedly.

Hermione shook her head. "No, but Grimmauld Place seems like the most logical place to start."

"And if he's not there?" Ginny asked as she sat upright and hugged her knees against her chest.

"Well," Hermione started. "You could always try Godric's Hollow. Harry might've decided to go back."

Hermione didn't elaborate and Ginny stared at her. "Why Godric's Hollow?"

Hermione stood with a small smile and walked to the door before turning back to Ginny. "Sometimes, Ginny, you have to look back on the beginning before you can move on to the end."

Ginny nodded slowly as Hermione left her alone once again. _Of course_, she thought after a few silent moments. _The beginning. __His__ beginning_.

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	4. That's All I Ask of You

Summary: Anywhere you go, let me go too.

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The sun had just begun to rise over the hill where Harry sat, alone, lost in his thoughts, as a light breeze rustled through the trees, making his hair even more untidy than usual. Below him, the small village of Godric's Hollow was just beginning to awaken to the new morning; the faintest trail of white smoke was rising from one of the chimneys of the small inn where he was staying. He felt his stomach rumble with hunger and knew he should head back to see what he might be able to find for breakfast. Yet Harry felt rooted to the spot where he sat, watching the village below, his eyes wandering every so often to the small graveyard at the very bottom of the hill, wondering how many others like his parents rested there because of Voldemort.

The sun became brighter overhead and Harry had to squint his eyes against it. Despite the breeze around him, Harry could already tell it would be a warm day; a tell tale sign that June was quickly moving into July. He wondered to himself how it had been a year since he had left the Dursley's and set off with Ron and Hermione at his side in search of the only way of defeating Voldemort – by finding and destroying his remaining horcruxes. It was a year that had not been wasted, and yet Harry couldn't help but want it back.

Harry thought of Lupin and Tonks, and about Teddy, who would only ever know his parents through the stories and memories of others, just as Harry had. But Harry knew of no one who could tell his godson what his father had been like when he was younger. He knew that Teddy's grandmother would tell him stories of his mother, but all Harry had to offer of Lupin were the memories he'd gotten from Sirius, from Snape, or from his own experiences. Harry would make sure Teddy knew how hard and how bravely his parents had fought against the Dark Arts and how they had worked to protect them both. Harry wished Sirius was there to guide him through this, but remembered with a sharp pang of guilt that it was his own fault that Sirius was gone.

His thoughts turned to Fred and how his loss had been the most difficult of all from that night. It had happened so fast, all Harry really knew was that one moment Fred had been dueling Death Eaters and having a laugh with Percy, and in the next was gone. Harry doubted he would ever really know what had caused the wall of the castle to crumble or where the curse that had killed Fred had come from, and maybe in a way that made it a little easier, the not knowing. The hard part of Fred's loss had only just begun; letting go of the shock and denial of a great loss to begin healing, being able in time to laugh and joke again, learning to live again, and George would have to learn to find his way alone while always, Harry assumed, feeling as though half of him was missing.

It was a feeling that Harry, too, had grown used to feeling. There hadn't been a time growing up when he couldn't remember feeling as though part of him was missing, and it had only seemed to grow more intense each time he lost someone he was close to. But instead of taking the time to grieve and heal, he had always just pushed on, storing everything up inside of him and using it only when he needed reminding of what he was fighting for. He doubted he would have been able to defeat Voldemort without those memories.

So he had returned to Godric's Hollow after Fred's funeral to give the Weasleys time to grieve and heal on their own. Harry's own healing would come in time, he knew that. He had made peace with Cedric's death, although he still felt largely responsible for it. But then again, how could he have known that the Triwizard Cup had been turned into a portkey? And how was he supposed to have known that one of Voldemort's loyal Death Eaters had escaped from Azkaban and had been impersonating Professor Moody the entire school year?

He had even been able to find closure in the death of Professor Dumbledore, and no longer held any hatred for Severus Snape. He wasn't sure how he could given that Snape's love for Harry's own mother had greatly come to outweigh the hatred he held for Harry's father, and without Snape's bravery, Harry was quite sure that he and Ron and Hermione would still be searching for the remaining horcruxes, imprisoned, or in all likelihood, dead.

And now the only losses he had left to make peace with were those of his parents, James and Lily, and Sirius. Although, he doubted he would ever fully make peace with Sirius's death. If he'd have been able to practice Occlumency as Professor Snape had tried to teach him, he wouldn't have seen Sirius being tortured in the Hall of Prophecy. But he hadn't been able to close off his mind, and had rushed off to save him, only to find that none of it had been real. And not only had he put himself in danger, he'd put others in danger as well, and wasn't at all surprised when Sirius had come to save him, because he and Harry were both brave and noble and stupid in that characteristic Gryffindor way.

And his parents. James and Lily Potter had died to save his life. And he had intended to die to save the lives of so many others. He was grateful for the life they had died to give him, but for the briefest of moments, as he had walked into the forest, Harry found himself wanting death if only to be reunited with them and to have that connection that he had never truly known. And he wondered if he would ever really be able to make peace with their deaths. He could press on and go forward, that he knew, he'd done it so many times before. He knew that his parents' sacrifice had been rewarded and that they had both been avenged the day that he had finally defeated Voldemort, but part of him still felt hollow and empty, and he doubted whether or not that feeling would ever truly go away.

Sighing, Harry stood and dusted himself off. He started slowly back down the hill toward the inn, finally unable to ignore his rumbling hunger anymore. He paused at the bottom of the hill for a moment at the graves of his parents. They had been only three years older than he was now when they had died, and then remembered that he had been ready to die before even turning eighteen, his own life sacrificed to save his entire world, just as the lives of his parents had been sacrificed to save his. He felt the breeze pick up and rustle his hair momentarily and smiled to himself. He had always been proud to be their son, and knew that they would be proud of him. Their sacrifice had not been made in vain; he had become a man of incredible personal strength and perseverance and had learned what it was to love enough to die for others.

He turned away as the wind died down again and started back toward the inn. He was grateful that he was able to make it back without running into anyone. He didn't feel up to much conversation at the moment and was content to just enjoy as much peace and quiet as he could find.

He didn't, however, expect to find someone waiting for him when he returned.

Ginny stood at the foot of the staircase talking softly with the innkeeper. They both turned their heads as Harry walked through the door and his eyes locked onto hers. He noticed that the normal softness, warmth, and mischief had been replaced by something steely and cold, no doubt leftover from losing Fred.

As Harry passed the two to start up the stairs, Ginny followed, and Harry heard faint whispering as they passed down the long hall to his room. He had grown used to others whispering behind his back; he'd had to endure it since he first entered into Hogwarts. It was not something, however, that Ginny had ever really had to experience. He glanced back at her and saw that she still held her head high, and if she heard the whispers that followed them through the halls, she didn't seem to acknowledge them.

Harry unlocked the door to the room and let Ginny inside first. He closed the door behind him after following her into the room and stood frozen in the center as Ginny moved toward the window. He watched her for a moment before he spoke.

"H-how did you know I was here?" he asked quietly.

"Hermione figured it out." Ginny answered sharply. "You could have told us you were leaving."

"I –" Harry started but stopped short. Something in the look Ginny flashed him told him that it was pointless to argue, and whether he argued or not, she was completely right.

"Why, Harry?" Ginny asked, and the sharpness that had been in her voice only moments ago had faded.

Harry found himself sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "I guess I just felt like I was in the way."

Ginny looked him over as her jaw dropped in pure exasperation. Where did he come up with such rubbish? "Oh that's just bloody ridiculous and you know it! Mum is in hysterics, Harry, and when Ron's not with Hermione, he just sort of mopes about the house. Dad's been looking for you since last night, and quite frankly, I could curse you into next year."

Harry was tempted to look anywhere in the room but at Ginny, but couldn't quite bring himself to tear his eyes from hers. "Your family needs space, and I need to be here. You don't –"

Ginny held up her hand to him and Harry went quiet. "Don't tell me I don't understand, Harry; I don't want to hear it. I understand a lot better than you think. You lost something important to you years ago and now you have to find a way to move on from it."

It was Harry's turn to look Ginny over. Why was it that everyone else always seemed to know more about him than he did? He opened his mouth to speak but found that the words he wanted just weren't coming. Ginny's eyes softened as she crossed the room and took his hands into hers.

"We all lost someone because of him, Harry. Every single one of us did. But we need you." she paused and looked down at their entwined hands and smiled briefly. She was glad to know that smiling was something she could still do. She looked up into his eyes once more and marveled at just how green they were. "_I_ need you. And you need us. I'd have thought that you'd have learned by now that you don't have to do everything alone."

"Ginny …" Harry's voice broke as he turned his eyes away from hers.

"You have to learn to let us – me – in, Harry, or you're no different than him." Ginny answered him quietly.

"Him?"

Ginny inhaled a deep breath and closed her eyes before popping them open again and exhaling. "Voldemort."

She didn't flinch when she said the name, and was glad when Harry didn't look at her in complete shock like so many others would have, even though they had all seen Voldemort fall at Hogwarts. Harry swallowed the hard lump in his throat and stood there silently. Once again, she was completely right.

"I am a real prat, aren't I?" he asked with a small smirk.

"You can't help it. It's habit by now." Ginny answered him as her arms circled around him. "But I love you anyway."

Harry leaned forward and swept his lips slowly over hers. "I love you, too."

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Reviews, suggestions, and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated! 


	5. My Gift To You

Summary: And here's my gift to you

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Harry awoke later than he normally would have the morning of his birthday. As he pushed himself into a sitting position on his bed and reached for his glasses, he took note of the uncharacteristic silence that carried throughout The Burrow.

He was certain he'd slept through breakfast as he reached for the watch that the Weasleys had given him on his last birthday, and was shocked to see that it was nearly noon. Surely the Weasleys hadn't meant to let him sleep so late.

He got up and quickly dressed and went to investigate the cause of the stillness and silence, which was something he was certain had not been part of The Burrow for many years.

Harry noticed as he entered the kitchen that someone was in the living room, grumbling to themselves. He crossed from the kitchen into the living room and saw Ginny with her hair in a ponytail, furiously trying to polish and dust every inch of the room.

"…as soon as I'm allowed to use magic …" she grumbled, unaware of Harry's presence.

Harry grinned and reached into his back pocket for his wand. He gave a quick flick of his wrist, and the cloth Ginny had been holding zoomed out of her hands and began working of its own accord.

Ginny gasped and spun around to see Harry in the doorway. "Harry! You're up!"

"Well, I wasn't going to sleep all day, was I?" He asked as he pocketed his wand. "Why didn't anyone wake me?"

Ginny shrugged. "It's been awhile since you've really been able to get any sort of decent sleep. We didn't think it could hurt to let you wake up when you were rested."

Harry nodded. If truth be told, he was still having trouble sleeping because of nightmares, but they weren't the sort of nightmares that he was used to having. Now they were merely faded flashes of those who had died, and most were of Fred, since Harry had been witness to his death. Ginny was partially right, though. He was having the nightmares less frequently, and some had stopped all together.

"Where is everyone?" Harry asked, casually changing the subject.

"Oh. Dad and Percy are at work, of course. Mum's out getting some last minute things for tonight and is then going to Diagon Alley to pick up our school things, leaving me here to clean the house. Hermione went with her, and Ron and George are at the shop." Ginny answered as she pushed some hair out of her face with the back of her hand.

Harry nodded before crinkling his brow as a sudden thought struck him. It didn't make any sense. Who, besides Ginny, was attending Hogwarts this year?

"Hang on. If you're the only one attending Hogwarts, who else is your mum shopping for?"

"Well, all of us. Ron, Hermione, me. And you, Harry." Ginny answered, as if it were an obvious fact that they would all be returning for the final year in their magical education. "The letters arrived just this morning."

Harry nodded slowly as he glanced down at his feet. Hogwarts had always been home to him, because it was the first place where he had ever felt that he truly belonged. But now everything had changed and he wondered whether or not it ever could feel like home again.

Hagrid would, of course, be there, as would Professor McGonagall, but every hall and corridor held the image of someone who had been killed, Death Eater or ally, and the Great Hall would no longer remind Harry of glorious feasts and festive balls, but instead would remind him of traumas and horrors that no one should ever have to experience.

Ginny seemed to sense the change in him and regarded him carefully. He had been to Hell and back, that was true, but just when did he plan to let the weight and burdens of the world fall from his shoulders? He'd fulfilled the prophecy. Wasn't that enough? Would it ever _be_ enough?

"Well," she started, letting her hair down from the ponytail. "I'm going to go clean up right quick and then we're going out to get your birthday gift."

"Birthday gift?" Harry asked, rather stupidly, having momentarily forgotten what the day actually was.

"Yeah. I know what I'm getting you, but I want you to choose it for yourself." Ginny smiled at him before jogging upstairs.

Harry took a seat in one of the armchairs as he waited. So he was going back to Hogwarts, it seemed, whether he wanted to or not. He wondered who had come to that conclusion, and only two people came to mind. Mrs. Weasley had already seen two sons not fully complete their education in Fred and George, and she wasn't about to let Ron follow in their glorious footsteps.

And Hermione. Harry could just hear her voice in his head. _"But you have to take your N.E.W.T.S.! You can't hope to become an Auror without them!"_

Regardless, Harry figured it was rather pointless and stupid to save the world, so to speak, and then return to school. He laughed at the thought despite himself.

"What are you laughing at?" Ginny asked when she returned a short time later.

"Oh," Harry grinned to himself. "Nothing."

He pushed himself up out of the chair and followed Ginny to the kitchen. As she wasn't quite seventeen yet, and Harry was still just getting the knack of Apparition and couldn't quite yet Apparate them both without something splinching (Harry didn't much like to think about _that_ possibility), they were forced to travel by Floo powder.

He watched as Ginny tossed the powder into the flames and stepped into them, shouted "Diagon Alley!" and disappeared as the flames engulfed her. Harry followed behind her and watched as dozens of fireplaces whirled past. He felt as he sped along like he was gulping down ash and smoke. He didn't figure Floo travel was something he'd ever really get used to.

He met Ginny and dusted himself off as he climbed out of the fireplace he had landed in.

"I still maintain that flying is the only way to travel." Harry said as he coughed the smoke out of his lungs.

"Yes, but everything else is faster." Ginny answered matter-of-factly and took hold of Harry's hand, dragging him out onto the streets of Diagon Alley.

Harry stopped suddenly as he glanced up and down the street. It was bustling with witches and wizards as it hadn't been the last time he had been there. The shops were no longer boarded up, and new tenants had moved into the shops that had been vacated by the continued absence of their owners, either because they had died in the war or had other reasons for not returning. Olivanders had reopened, Harry was pleased to see, as had Quality Quidditch Supplies, Eeylops Owl Emporium, and Madam Malkin's. Flourean Fortescue's ice cream parlour had unfortunately not returned, and in its place Titania's Tantalizing Treats had opened. Harry was pleased to see, by all the cakes, cookies, and candies in the display window that a wizard's sweet tooth would certainly not go unsatisfied.

"Come on, Harry." Ginny laughed and started down the busy street.

Harry followed Ginny down the street, glancing in the windows of each shop they passed. They stopped in front of Eeylops Owl Emporium and Harry admired a lovely Brown owl in the display window who was no bigger than Pigwidgeon and it took him a moment to realize that Ginny was steering him inside the shop.

"Ginny …" he breathed as he looked around. There were Tawny owls in one area, Brown owls in another, and all manner of different owls through the shop, though Harry noticed there were no Snowy owls among them.

"Why don't you choose one?" Ginny suggested pointedly as Harry looked around.

"Oh. Erm … okay." Harry gulped before starting a lap around the store. He looked at each owl, mentally finding something wrong with each one he saw, the most obvious of which was that none of them was Hedwig.

Ginny moved up to his side after a long while of looking and slipped her hand through his arm. "Harry, I know that Hedwig can't be replaced. And I'm not trying to make you replace her. But maybe, Harry, there's an owl here that's just as good as Hedwig was. I just thought it would be a nice gift, if not for now, then certainly for later." she explained as she rested her chin on Harry's shoulder.

Harry looked over at her and nodded. Ginny was right, once again. Nothing that any of them had lost could ever be replaced – nothing about the new would be the same as the old, and in some cases there wasn't a new to replace the old with. But in the instances where there was something new to be had, it would all be completely different. But, in the new was another beginning, fresh and unspoiled, and it reminded Harry that everything had changed; the places he went and would go, the people around him, and that even he himself had changed. That was just how things worked, seemingly to remind everyone to not get comfortable and settled, for in an instant everything could be turned topsy-turvy.

Harry did one last lap around the shop, giving each owl a more contemplative look before choosing a handsome and dignified Tawny owl. Ginny smiled happily as the owl hooted merrily and perched on Harry's outstretched arm.

Once paid for and sleeping in its new cage, Harry followed Ginny out of the shop and into the busy streets, starting out in the direction of the joke shop that had been started by Fred and George.

"What should I call him?" Harry asked as the cage swung gently in his hand with each step he took.

"Something strong and dignified. Something to show pride, because he is a rather proud owl, Harry." Ginny answered and laughed lightly, and Harry couldn't deny it. "What about Aramis?"

Harry turned his head to look at her curiously. Ginny laughed at his crinkled but uplifted brow.

"Honestly, Harry, my dad loves everything about Muggles. He told us the story of the Musketeers when I was little. He was rather fascinated that they could do just as much, if not more damage, without wands as we do with them." she explained. "But that's beside the point. The point is that they had this individual strength about them, just as you do, Harry. And they valued strength in numbers. You know, 'all for one, one for all.' Ron and Hermione, Neville and Luna, me … we've all got that mentality about us where you're concerned. And your story, Harry. It's so simple when you get down to it; it's that idea of sacrificing one to protect another. Your mum sacrificing her life to save yours, and you intending to sacrifice yours for all of us … It's just when you aren't directly involved in it, there's a sense of awe and grandeur that surrounds it."

Harry stopped just outside Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes and looked at Ginny in complete awe. He'd been trying for years to sum his own life up as eloquently as she just had.

"Aramis …" he said after a moment, his hand sliding into hers. "I rather like that."

"Harry birthday, Harry." She said, leaning up to kiss him lightly.

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_Thanks so much for each of your reviews! And sorry for the delay between chapters. School has been hectic with getting projects and exams taken care of in preparation for graduation. __Please take the time to leave a review with whether or not you liked the chapter, and what your suggestions are for how I might be able to improve. Thanks so much!_


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